I’m nervous as hell, but the second my lips touch his, that surge of power comes back to me. Like if we keep kissing, I can forget everything that’s ever happened up until this moment. I’m just a man kissing another man.
He parts his lips, mustache scratching my skin in a way that sends pleasant ripples down my neck, and I follow his lead. His tongue strokes into my mouth. I’m buzzing at the contact, buzzing at the way he licks my barbell, buzzing at the overwhelming warmth as his mouth seals to mine.
My hand drops from his cheek to the hollow at the base of his throat that his parted robe has been teasing me with. It’s right above that sexy crease between his pecs and hints at the hair that covers his chest. I want to push the stupid robe off his shoulders and spend the night exploring his body, but I’m lucky to even get this.
Talking might not be something that comes easily for me, but I’ve never thought of myself as unconfident. I’m capable, I’ve built what I thought was a good life, I have friend-type people and a useful skill … but I’ve never had sex before. It’s not like I could go out and strike up a conversation with someone I was interested in, and living with my mom and dad made sneaking out for a hookup impossible.
Now, I’m kissing a man I’ve fantasized about every day since I met him, and I have no idea how to take things further. How to show him that I want more.
It was hard enough to ask him if he wanted to kiss me again, but I was determined to use my words this time. Asking him if he wants to have sex? There’s no way.
And knowing what I know of Kennedy, he’s not going to be the one to make the first move.
The longer we kiss, the harder I get though, and I’m worried that if I don’t do something about it soon, I’m going to come just from kissing.
I refuse to let it end that way.
I break my lips from his, struggling to breathe, scared I’m about to ruin everything as I let my fingers slip from his throat and set my hand on his knee. I’m so nervous I feel sick, but I waitfor his unfocused eyes to sharpen on mine, and then I slide my hand up an inch and stop.
The brown speckled through his green eyes is deepened in the motel lamplight, and they bounce from one of my eyes to the next, like he’s trying to pull the thoughts from my mind.
His large hand covers mine. “If you want it, I want it. But there’s no pressure from me.”
I’m trying to work out whether he’s too nice to turn me down.
“I swear,” he continues. “I’d be happy to kiss all night if that’s what you wanted.”
The rasp in his voice gives me confidence.
I slip my hand under the robe, and before I can stop again to check in with him, Kennedy’s head tips back to the ceiling. “Oh, fuck,” he gasps, tendons in his neck tightening. “Touch me, Ziggy.”
Touch him … I can’t believe I’m about to.
The robe bunches around my arm as my hand slides over his fleshy thigh, loving the strength in it and marveling at the way the light hair is tickling my palm. I’ve wanted to do this for so long that the fact that it’s happening has my cockaching.My tip is brushing the rough cotton of the bathrobe, and I’m sure I’m leaking all over it, but I don’t care. I only want to know if Kennedy is doing the same.
I’m holding my breath as I reach the top of Kennedy’s thigh, and my hand doesn’t stop. It dips between his legs as he spreads them wider, and then … his balls fill my grip. My dick pulses, and I almost lose it myself, but somehow, I manage to hang on through what is hands down the sexiest moment of my life.
His balls are heavy and warm against my cool skin. Cradling them, rolling my hand over them, exploring every hair and crease and vein is something I want to carry with me to my grave. My vision wavers for a moment, and I remind myself tobreathe.
I’m not sure my stuttered inhale could be considered breathing, but it brings me back to the moment enough to enjoy it. I explore higher, leaving his balls behind and trailing my fingers over his hard shaft. The relief that hits me over him being as turned on as I am is ridiculous, but I don’t let it stop me.
My hand closes around his cock, and I’m touching more than I’ve dreamed of touching, but all it’s doing is making me want more. He’s thick, long, bigger than me, but that’s all I have to compare it to. All I know is that it feels amazing, and now when I jerk off over him, this is going to be burned into my brain.
At least that’s what I think until Kennedy’s whine fills his chest and he thrusts into my grip. “More,” he begs, and then, before I know what he’s doing, he tugs at the tie on the bathrobe, and both sides of it fall open, revealing everything.
My jaw actually drops.
I’d gotten an eyeful of his body the other day, but seeing the way his stomach curves down to his groin, the way the light blond hair beneath his belly button trails down to his pubes, and the way my pale hand is wrapped around his angry-looking cock is almost too much.
I give him another firm stroke, and Kennedy falls back against the bed. He’s biting the knuckles on one hand while the other buries into his hair.
I want to ask him if this is good. If he’s enjoying himself.
But Kennedy doesn’t leave me guessing for long.
“Bit tighter,” comes out muffled around his fist. “Just like that.” He thrusts into my hand again, and this time, I’m ready to stroke him through it. A speck of precum builds at his tip, and I watch it get larger as my hand moves over him.
Every inch of him is incredible, but I’d be lying if I said I was looking at more than his dick. It’s paler than the rest of him, but still a few shades darker than my hand, and there’s a prominent vein running along the underside. He looks painfully swollen,and I feel the same. I’m tempted to touch myself too, but I know the second I get some friction, I’m done for. My balls are already tight to my body, and I’m fighting with everything I have to keep this going.
